


A Man of Distinction

by orphan_account



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Love at First Sight, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rich Doctor Armie, Sex in a Car, Sugar Baby Timmy, creative uses of champagne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 21:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20320015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I’m Timothée. But--” Timothée keeps his hand in Armie’s long after their perfunctory handshake is over, “you can call me Timmy. My friends do.”“Does Kevin call you Timmy?” Armie asks, eyes already scanning for the nearest exit that will take them somewhere private enough for what he wants to do.“No. But Kevin also pays me.”Based on a real life event witnessed by lookingforatardis at an art auction that was an irresistible fic prompt.





	A Man of Distinction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lookingforatardis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingforatardis/gifts).

Armie reaches for a fifth flute of champagne. The waiter almost gives him a dirty look, but by the time his head cranes back far enough to catch Armie’s eye he’s thought better of it. Just to have something in his stomach Armie snags some bruschetta from another waiter who ambles by but promptly drops a chunk of tomato onto his starched white dress shirt.

“Better watch it, Dr. Hammer,” a voice teases from his elbow. “These folks might think you’re drunk.”

“Well,  _ Dr. Delli Santi _ , they might if anyone in this room was thinking of anything besides how much they can one-up each other bidding on art they won’t even be able to identify tomorrow.” Armie surveys the sea of chiffon, pearls, and cummerbunds, rippling like a rack of bobbleheads each time a new painting is unveiled on the dais at the front of the room and a fresh round of bidding begins.

“God, Nick, remind me again why we do this?”

“Because it allows us to look charitable while we’re really watching people throw away money we know they didn’t earn on things they won’t even use?” Nick snickers, tosses back what looks suspiciously like a shot of neat whiskey. Armie didn’t even know there was hard alcohol at this event and yet Nick had found it.

“Yeah, well, enough people have seen us now, don’t you think? Everyone at the hospital will remember I was here but they’ll hopefully be too drunk to remember I can’t afford to buy anything. Only at these ridiculous galas does a heart surgeon’s salary put you in the poorhouse. Did you bring a vape pen?” Armie has already turned toward the door, finger hooked under his bow tie in anticipation of ridding himself of it in a matter of minutes.

The noise level in the room suddenly drops to a whisper. A bid is called out at an uncomfortably loud volume, the auctioneer taken by surprise. Suddenly it rises again, determined, as if everyone in the room began talking at once to cover an awkward moment.

“Oh, Timothée must be here.” Nick’s eyes twinkle so sharply that Armie’s afraid he might start rubbing his hands together in diabolically embarrassing glee.

“Timo-who?” Armie snags another flute of champagne from a passing tray. His toes feel warmer already and if managed properly that glow could spread everywhere in a matter of minutes.

“God, Armie, I know you only come to these things for appearances but do you pay any attention at all? Every year Timothée’s here and every year it’s with someone different. A hot new resident, a freshly divorced neurologist, a bigwig administrator. Remember those two board members who got divorced a few years ago? That year Timothée came here as the date of husband, then the next year he came with the wife.”   
  


The rippling crowd parts like an unthinking sea. It leaves a straight line between Armie and the man who has just walked through the door. As soon as their eyes meet Armie’s warm alcoholic glow spreads everywhere in his body. Immediately. Inconveniently. Armie loses interest in whatever painting is currently being sold. There’s only one thing in the room now that he wants.

Timothée is hanging on the arm of Kevin, a gently nerdy anesthesiologist with a reputation for terrifying competence. Armie’s been hoping for years that Kevin will settle down with someone and he now knows exactly who he does  _ not _ want Kevin settling down with. Kevin whispers something in Timothée’s ear, grasps gently at Timothée’s elbow in its pearly pink tuxedo jacket. 

With a determination he usually applies to  _ not allowing his patients to die _ , Armie crosses the room in five strides. Timothée holds his gaze the entire way, one corner of his mouth quirked up in a curious grin. When they’re only a few feet apart Timothée leans in to Kevin and giggles. “Could you bring us some champagne, darling? These waiters could really use some manners.” He bats his eyes at Kevin, who dutifully disappears.

“You know, I think you could get people to do the labors of Hercules with that approach,” Armie chuckles once the two of them are alone. “I’m Armie.”

“I’m Timothée. But--” Timothée keeps his hand in Armie’s long after their perfunctory handshake is over, “you can call me Timmy. My friends do.”

“Does Kevin call you Timmy?” Armie asks, eyes already scanning for the nearest exit that will take them somewhere private enough for what he wants to do.

“No. But Kevin also pays me.” Timmy withdraws his hand, fingertips lingering against Armie’s.

“How much does he pay you? I’ll double it.” This might be the first time champagne has made Armie do something he  _ won’t _ regret in the morning.

Timmy nods toward the painting currently being sold. “You could buy four of those for one of me, honey. Better be careful what you wish for.”

“Sold.” Armie growls.

Timmy’s eyes light up in surprise. “Well then, big spender. Where do you want me? The men’s room here is classy but that’s a bit of a cliche.”

“Go down to the garage. There’s a limo in the second row with a plate ending in 443. Wait for me there.” Timmy nibbles his lip, nods excitedly at the confidence in Armie’s tone, and disappears through the exit toward the elevators.

Kevin appears at Armie’s side with two flutes of champagne in his hand and a perplexed expression on his face. Armie takes one from him and gulps it down.

“He wasn’t feeling well,” Armie murmurs in mock sympathy. “I think he’s gonna go see a doctor.”

He leaves Kevin standing dumbstruck in the room behind him.

In the parking garage Armie signals for his driver to take a walk and leave the limo unlocked. The cool reserve with which this command is obeyed makes Armie wonder for a moment what else this driver has seen. Then he turns to Timmy, whose curls are softening in the humid summer air, whose overconfident demeanor inside has relaxed a bit and revealed a goofy half-grin and a habit of kicking idly at the car’s tires while he waits. Armie opens the back door of the limo and gestures inside.

They arrange themselves on the long bench at the back of the limousine. Armie reaches for the champagne that’s been chilling in the limo’s bar all evening and pops the cork. There are glasses, but he’d have to leave Timmy’s side to get them. So he drinks from the bottle, extends it to Timmy who throws back his head and takes a generous swallow. Armie watches the column of his neck as the bubbly moves through it, watches Timmy’s curls tease his shoulders when he shakes his head to get the last of it down.

“Do you kiss?” Armie asks, unsure of the etiquette here. He’s never even bought a painting at one of these things before, much less a night with another human being.

Timmy’s eyes haven’t left Armie’s mouth during that question.”For you, fucking absolutely.” Armie grins and swigs again from the champagne bottle before leaning in to caress Timmy’s bottom lip with his own. When Timmy’s mouth opens to welcome him, Timmy yelps in surprise as Armie pushes a few drops of champagne from his own mouth into Timmy’s, the bubbles carrying their tastes onto each other’s tongues.He sighs and hums against Armie’s mouth, arching his back when Armie wraps his arms around Timmy’s back and crushes them to each other.

In a matter of minutes Timmy’s relaxed pliancy has given way to an insistent pressing against Armie, and finally he breaks their kiss to remove his tuxedo jacket and bow tie and throw them on a nearby seat. Timmy unbuttons the top button of his dress shirt, showing Armie even more of the slim column of his throat. He scurries backwards onto the spacious floor of the limousine and starts to unbutton his tuxedo pants.

“So,” Timmy asks, so softly Armie has to lean over him to hear it and then realizes that’s exactly where Timmy wants him, “how do you want me?”

And Armie has an answer. He can think of a couple of ways he’d like to have Timmy, and then a couple more that he’d take as second place if he didn’t get either of the first two. But when he sees how patiently Timmy waits for an answer he realizes that he wants Timmy to decide. If people are paying him they’re probably calling the shots, but that’s not what Armie wants from him. He wants Timmy, not whatever reflection of their own desires people might pay Timmy to be.

When Armie says this Timmy’s eyes grow huge and far away for a second, then snap back to a mischievous present. “Well in that case,” he murmurs, “first I want this.” Timmy fumbles at the button on Armie’s tuxedo pants. Armie reaches down to help him, quickly sliding out of his dress pants and boxers and only hitting his head twice on the limo ceiling in the process. When his cock springs free and bounces toward his stomach Timmy reaches out a hand to catch it, starting to work Armie earnestly while pulling Armie closer with his other hand until Armie’s on all fours over Timmy, thrusting into his mouth while Timmy’s hand works his balls and the base of his dick until they too are wet from Timmy’s tongue. Timmy’s other hand works his own cock until it’s damp with precome and he stills his hand. taps the back of Armie’s thigh and pulls his mouth off the head of Armie’s dick with a pop.

“I want you inside me, wanna see you,” Timmy whispers, swirling his hand through the spit and precome on Armie’s dick. With his other hand he fishes a bottle from his jacket pocket. Armie’s raised eyebrow gets him a look from Timmy that says  _ look, you know my line of work _ and Armie can’t argue with that, especially not when Timmy’s warm hand starts coating his dick with slightly chilly lube. He leans into the sensation, thrusting into Timmy’s touch as the lube warms around him, whining involuntarily when Timmy withdraws his hand. Timmy drizzles more lube onto his own fingers, keeping eye contact with Armie as he sucks in a sharp breath and breaches his own rim with first one finger, then two, keeping his eyes locked on Armie’s the whole time. He reaches for Armie’s cock, lines the head up with his entrance, rolls his hips so that his rim presses insistently against Armie. “This. This is how I want it,” Timmy whispers, and Armie’s gone over the edge, sliding into Timmy’s wet heat, lowering himself back over Timmy to kiss him again, the taste of champagne now mixed with a spice and sweat that is undeniably Timmy.

Timmy’s hand is on his own dick now, brushing against Armie’s stomach with every stroke, legs trembling and wrapped around the small of Armie’s back. As Armie feels Timmy’s pace speed up, hears his kisses start to mix with moans, he pushes deeper into Timmy until finally he feels the ring of Timmy’s muscle grip the base of his dick and he’s gone, pulsing into Timmy, feeling Timmy’s heartbeat around him and swearing they have the same heartbeat, and Timmy’s coming too, the spasms of his muscles pulling the last of Armie’s orgasm out of him until he collapses, panting, on Timmy’s chest. His cock softens inside Timmy but he can’t bring himself to move, and as Timmy’s idly drawing shapes on Armie’s back with one thin finger he doesn’t seem to mind either.

Finally Armie hoists himself above Timmy again, planting a final kiss on his lips before wiping them off with a towel from the limousine’s bar. Timmy’s staring up at him, dazed, and Armie has to take his hands and gently tug him upright, “Come on, Timmy--” he starts, and then realizes he has no idea where they stand. Is he still a friend, someone who can use “Timmy” instead of “Timothée”? Or is he the payday Timmy envisioned, the night’s income that could be used to buy four paintings? The thought of getting out his wallet sickens Armie and he pulls on his boxers, sits back on the bench seat, and sips champagne to buy himself time.

Fortunately Timmy comes to his rescue. “Oh no, you’ve got  _ the look _ . The look that means someone who started as a client thinks they’re gonna fall in love with me.” Timmy wrestles his own boxers onto his thin waist, grabs the bottle from Armie, and takes a deep drink. “I get it a lot. As you can imagine.” He gestures jokingly to himself, and Armie would laugh affectionately if he wasn’t so fucking  _ nervous _ . “The thing is, in my line of work you get one chance to fall in love with somebody back. But just one. And you better be right, or you’re walking away from a good gig for nothing.”

Armie remembers to breathe again. He doesn’t know quite where this is going but Timmy also isn’t getting dressed and making grabby hands for money, so that’s probably a good sign.

“And the way you tell if someone is the one is that you start doing things you’d normally never do. Getting drunk with the client.” Timmy takes another healthy swig from the champagne bottle. “Kissing on the mouth.” In case Armie’s forgotten that they’ve been doing that all night, Timmy kisses him again. “And then if I’m sure, I’ll say to them, forget the money. Just take me home so I can wake up next to you in the morning.”

Timmy fishes around on the seat next to them, finally retrieving his pants and shirt and buttoning himself halfway into them. “Finally I gotta make sure that’s what the other person wants too, even if they did something amazing like make sure our first time together was about me instead of them. So I’ll ask you.” He cuddles up against Armie’s shoulder, curls tickling Armie’s elbow where it rests along Timmy’s back. “Do you wanna forget the money? Take me home so I can wake up next to you tomorrow instead?”

Armie can’t find his phone fast enough to ping the driver to come back and get them. Then he plants a sloppy kiss on Timmy’s head. The first of many.

“Fucking absolutely, Timmy. Absolutely.”

**Author's Note:**

> dreamofhorses42 on Tumblr.


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